A Day Late
by Eleantris
Summary: It's four years since Alex was shot and danced her way out of Gene's life. But now she's back and Gene is more confused than ever. The only thing Alex wants to know is this; is she too late? Songfic written to 'A Day Late' by Anberlin. Galex.


_**Greetings, imaginary constructs! Well, I've been working on this for months, I think. I wrote about half of it, then got stuck so abandoned it, and have only recently managed to finish it off. It's Galex, of course, and written to an amazing song called 'A Day Late' by the equally amazing band 'Anberlin'. I'd just quickly like to say thank you to TheFatalIllusion for her advice, I hope I've made the necessary improvements! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please drop a review at the end!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes, or these lyrics. :P**_

_**A Day Late**_

* * *

_May 14__th__, 1986_

Gene Hunt was confused. He'd even go so far as to say that this was the most confused he'd ever been in his life – and that was with having a nutcase like Sam Tyler as his DI for seven years.

It had been four years since Alex woke up after the shooting and forgave him, before getting a transfer to Kent as fast as possible and disappearing right out of his life. She said she had felt like she didn't belong on the team anymore and that maybe they'd be better off with a new DI, with no emotional baggage or ties. Which to him, was her polite way of saying that whilst she had forgiven him, she still couldn't bring herself to trust him anymore. And that hurt, more than he cared to admit. But with that and not even a teary goodbye, Alex Drake and her gorgeous arse had walked out of his kingdom forever. Or at least, that was what he'd thought up until two days ago...

* * *

_May 12__th__, 1986_

"Guv, the Super asked me to pass this onto you." DI Graham Hanley was stood in the doorway to his office, glasses resting precariously on his thin nose as he held out a note towards him. As a man of around forty, and with an obvious air of 'I only work here, no need to make friends', DI Hanley had served his job well. He co-operated with the team, got his job done, and helped them to collar various criminals. But unlike his predecessors – names he would rather forget than remember – he didn't retire to Luigi's with them after a long day, and refused point blank to join in with the office banter that had long become a normal part of working life in CID. He was just a nondescript cog in the machine.

"Right," Gene said with a nod, taking it from him and waiting until he had closed the door behind him before dropping his eyes down to the note in his hand.

_In light of your recent findings about Brown's drug gang possibly being the same one Fenchurch West have been trying to collar for years, I'd like you to arrange a meeting with their new DCI – DCI Woodsen – to see if you can collaborate on this one. _

_Make me proud and get this collar, Gene. Time's running out and the public are getting angry. They want results, and so do I. _

_Superintendent Johnson. _

Gene let out a long sigh, his gaze flickering to the article about a drug gang that had been cropping up here and there, but recently causing a lot of trouble. They were believed to be being led by a Lewis Brown – a slimy bastard if there ever was one, and Gene was desperate to see him shoved in a cell with a man who'd have his arsehole expanding at the size of China before the court case was even scheduled. So far, he'd had no such luck.

And now he was expected to co-operate with some random new DCI of Fenchurch bloody West – AKA, the bane of his existence. He'd never met DCI Woodsen, but the name made him think of some swotty, tall twat, probably educated at Oxford before deciding that instead of becoming an established doctor, or professor of mumbo-jumbo, he'd use his career to piss him off and join the police force. Gene could predict that he wasn't going to like this DCI – no doubt he'd try to undermine him, show him who was boss. Well, no-one got on top of Gene Hunt, that was for sure. And if they tried, he had long since got used to kicking ten different shades of shit out of them until they could no longer walk straight, let alone think ever again.

At that moment, the phone on his desk rang, and it was with a grumpy expression that Gene picked it up and pushed it against his ear. "Hunt."

"Someone's angry," said the female voice on the other end of the line – one he knew well.

"What the 'ell are you calling me at the office for? I said I'd see yer later," Gene muttered into the phone, though the annoyance seeped quickly from his tone at the familiar sound of her voice.

The woman on the other end sighed, and he could hear other female voices in the background. "That's what I rang about. I'm staying out with some friends tonight, so I'll have to see you tomorrow instead. Is that okay?"

Gene sighed again, a little annoyed that he was missing out on a promise. It might have been just what he needed after talking to the new DCI Dickhead of Fenchurch West. "S'fine, Donna. 'Ave a good time, try not to pick up any wankers, ey?"

She laughed. "Okay, bye..." she trailed off, and an awkward buzz of static came through the receiver in Gene's hand. This was how their phone conversations always ended, slightly awkward, but it had become familiar, almost routine. The words 'I love you' weren't needed, because they weren't meant.

"Yeah, see yer tomorrow." And with that, Gene put the phone down.

Donna Smith was nothing serious. Just a woman he'd met in a bar on one of his late night, moody pub-crawls a few months ago. They didn't live together, and they met up every other night for a meal and a shag; that was about the extent of it. She was what Ray would call 'the easy maintenance girlfriend'. Gene knew he didn't feel love for her, he wasn't completely sure he was capable of it after... He stopped his thoughts, not wanting to think of the DI with glossy curls who had charmed her way into his heart, before carelessly ripping it out and kicking it aside. There was affection, yes. Lust, definitely. But not much else, if he was honest. Sometimes, he felt guilty, but then he remembered that Donna was hardly of different feelings towards their relationship, and the guilt went away. She was a willing body, and good conversation after a hard day's work. What else did he need?

.

Two hours later, after entering Fenchurch West CID, Gene Hunt very suddenly realised that whilst he wasn't quite sure what else he _did_ need, he knew what he definitely _didn't_ need. And that was this. He definitely did not need the new DCI stood there, looking at him with something akin to sheepishness in her eyes.

She was...everything he remembered her to be, and more. Glossy curls, though slightly longer now – brushing her shoulders. Large, hazel eyes – enough to hold any man captive. And, he wasn't sure whether his memory had faded, or whether she had just grown even curvier in the last four years, but he was certain that it was still her. She was still gorgeous, still exerted that air of breathtaking beauty. There was no denying it. That look of determination on her face was unquestionable; the way she stubbornly stood there in front of him was something that couldn't be imagined. And that look...the look in her eyes – questioning, challenging, and dare he say it, a little nervous. That definitely could not be denied; he had seen it far too many times before.

This was no illusion, no fantasy, no wild, desperate dream in the middle of the night.

This was Alex Drake.

Or, he thought bitterly, if the name on her office door was to be believed, Alex Woodsen. So she had married some Kent tosser then. Well, fandabbydosy for her.

"Gene," she whispered, taking a step forward. But she stopped in front of him, not really knowing what else to say. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, before Gene lifted his head to meet her gaze. His eyes trailed carefully over her face as he reminded herself of the slope of her neck, the defined jaw line and soft, pouted lips. The woman that constantly invaded his dreams was pale in comparison now that he was once more confronted with the real thing, and in that moment, Gene couldn't even remember who Donna Smith was.

"What are yer doin' here, Alex?" he asked quietly, eyes slightly hard as her gaze flickered downwards, the tension between them still awkward.

"I...I got offered a promotion, but only if I took the job here. The last DCI left suddenly, and they needed a fast replacement," she explained, chest tightening slightly as he nodded, still looking distant. It pained her for them to meet again like this, after they had said goodbye so frostily four years ago. A part of her desperately wanted for him to make some sexist joke, to become the Gene she knew from all those years ago...but she knew he wouldn't. And it felt like her heart was breaking. All the air seemed to have been sucked from her office, and it felt like it was just them, alone in an emotion fraught void.

"What about yer 'usband? Where's he?" Gene asked, voice a little bitter as he glanced towards the thin gold wedding band on her left hand.

"Oh," Alex said, slightly taken aback as she self-consciously tugged her jacket sleeve down over her hand, as if trying to conceal evidence of some sordid act. Not as though she had got married perfectly legally in a church, with several witnesses and a priest. "Samuel's a lawyer, but he works overseas a lot. I haven't actually been able to contact him to say I've taken a job back up here..."

"Lawyer?" Gene asked, scoffing. "Typical. I knew the name Woodsen screamed poncey twat."

Surprisingly, Alex said nothing to defend her husband, and kept her jacket sleeve tugged firmly over her left hand, almost as if she was ashamed. That fact made Gene frown, and he wondered if the last four years had really hardened her that much. Even after all this time, he knew it wasn't like her to not defend someone she cared about.

"It doesn't suit yer," Gene said after a few more moments of silence, his gruff words cutting through the thick atmosphere. "Alex Woodsen. I liked Drake a lot better."

"I know," Alex said quietly, her face looking a little sad.

Gene frowned again, taking in the evasive, saddened look on her flawless face. Silence descended once again, the air between them charged with nothing but awkwardness and unsaid words. A million things danced on Gene's lips, dying to be spoken, but he kept his mouth shut. Because if he said just one of them, he knew the rest would come tumbling out. And then he'd be royally screwed.

"This is awkward," Alex eventually muttered, looking back up at him again.

"What do yer expect? Yer bloody pissed off out of my life, with barely a goodbye, then yer come dancin' back in again. Everything doesn't magically bounce back to normal, Drakey."

"Woodsen," Alex reminded him, letting her jacket sleeve fall back again as she held up her hand. "Married, remember?"

Gene shrugged and eyed the ring. It looked a little too big for her, almost as though the buyer hadn't really put all that much thought into what size she needed, or what suited her. Silver looked better on her, he knew. However, he knew better than to bring something like that up, so opted instead for nodding simply at her. "Right, yeah... Married." The last word seemed to burn on his tongue.

Letting out a long sigh, Alex looked at his face for a moment, considering the bitter resentment that was clear in his expression as he stared at her wedding ring. It made her feel self-conscious so she dropped her hand again and pulled down her sleeve. "I'm sorry, Gene," she said quietly after yet another lingering silence. "I shouldn't have run out on you all like that, but...I had to get away."

"From me, yer mean," Gene said roughly, his hard, serious gaze boring into her. "Yer wanted t' escape from me, so yer didn't 'ave t' look me in the face every day and pretend that yer could stand the sight of me." His voice was harsh, plain, and cut Alex like a knife.

"That's not true!" she immediately protested, taking a step forwards. "It wasn't that at all, I don't blame you for the shooting, Gene."

"What do yer blame me for then, Bols? Because somethin' made yer leave, and it wasn't Ray's collection of pornographic magazines. S'pose it's alright though, yer met Prince Charming, no doubt." He nodded to her left hand, still concealed by the loose, black blazer.

Alex sighed and brought her eyes up to his as she wetted her lips slightly. "I don't blame you for anything, Gene," she told him softly, her hand twitching as though it wanted to come to rest against his chest, but she kept it firmly by her side. "I just...needed a new start, that's all. I needed to forget about everything and get away for a while. And before you say anything else, I want you to know..." she trailed off, looking down again.

"Want me t' know what, Bolly?"

"He's not Prince Charming," she admitted quietly, her eyes pricking with tears for some unknown reason. She angrily pushed them back, keeping her gaze fixed on his tie.

"Problems in marital heaven, Bols?" Gene asked, though not unkindly. He yearned to reach out and touch her, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. Her scent was new, yet devastatingly familiar to him and he breathed it in deeply, like a drug that he knew was about to be snatched away from him at any minute.

She laughed a little at that, though it was weak and half-hearted. "You could say that...But he's away all the time, and I kind of rushed into it. I guess I just needed some security, but I always...I could never get away from...it didn't stop me fee-" She stopped talking abruptly, her gaze resolutely refusing to meet his once again.

"Could never get away from what?" Gene asked curiously. By now, they had totally forgotten about the fact that they were supposed to be comparing notes on Brown's drug gang. This seemed so much more important, somehow.

"Nothing," she told him, biting down on her lip as though that would prevent the words from spilling out, unbidden. "Doesn't matter."

"No, it does matter," he insisted, frowning now as he grew suspicious. "What were yer goin' t' say, Bols? What couldn't you ever get away from?"

Alex gave a shaky sigh and slowly lifted her head, gaze locking onto his. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and it caused his chest to tighten painfully at the sudden look of grief on her face, the gentle plea that lurked behind her shining pupils. "I couldn't get away from the fact that..." she swallowed, bottom trembling slightly. "That I was in love with someone else."

Gene's heart stopped beating. It was as though the rest of his body no longer needed the flow of warm blood; his muscles had frozen, gluing him to the spot as his eyes widened slightly and he stared at her, watching as a small tear slipped forlornly from the corner of her eye. "Wh...Who?" He didn't dare to hope that he already knew the answer, and he had to hear her say it. Hear the tone of her voice as she said it, the honesty behind the word...

Managing to force it out, just before a quiet sob jumped from within her, Alex allowed the tears to fall from her stinging eyes, her gaze never straying from his shocked face. "You." She shook her head, more tears jerking free from their prison as a look of hopelessness passed over her face. "It was always you...but, I couldn't say anything, and...I never...and now, I..." She stopped again, knowing she was barely making any sense. "I'm sorry."

_So let me get this straight_

_You say now you loved me all along_

_What made you hesitate?_

_To tell me with words what you really feel_

A long sigh fell from Gene's lips as he brought his hands up to wrap around her back. Years he had spent dreaming of her coming back, of her waltzing back into his life, all fur coat and no knickers. But he had never imagined it like this. This was...he hated to say it, but this was a mess.

Nevertheless, he pulled her closer, sighing into her soft curls and delighting in the way her body pressed up against his, as though she was moulded specifically to fit next to him. "Why didn't yer tell me before, Bolly? The last four years could've been different." He wasn't quite sure what to say – no woman had really told him they loved him before, and certainly not in circumstances like this. What the hell was he supposed to do? He wasn't going to lie, Gene Hunt was bricking it.

"I don't know," she murmured against his chest, repressing a sob. There was no use in crying now. "I was scared, never found the right time, didn't know how...it's a long list." She moved her head back slightly to look at him, to make sure he wasn't angry. But it wasn't rage she saw in his eyes, it was fear. Fear, and confusion, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Regret, maybe?

He looked down at her, his stomach twisting as he witnessed the pain in her eyes, the honesty with which she spoke. This was no joke, no lie. This was the truth. And it scared the shit out of him.

_I can see it in your eyes_

_You mean all of what you say_

_I remember so long ago_

_See, I felt that same way_

He used to look at her like that – as though there was nobody else in the room, or the entire world. There was nothing he wanted more than her. Everything about her made him groan in longing, and looking back, he wondered how the hell he had coped working with her, side by side, day after day. And then sitting with her, so close to temptation, every night in Luigi's. The way her moist, pouted lips would close around the end of her pen as she was thinking; the way that irresistible, sultry smile would creep across her face late at night as he made some dirty suggestion; the way her hips moved when she walked, legs the length of Italy and then some. She was gorgeous then, but now...

Right now, she was gazing up at him with wide, questioning eyes. Longing stirred in their hazel depths, her soft lips shimmering in the glow of the lamp on her desk. And all he could possibly think of, the only thing running through his head in that moment was how much he wanted to kiss her. His hands were still on her back, holding her close to him in comfort. But he wanted more, and she...the soft, almost inaudible sigh that fell from her lips told him everything he needed to know.

"Gene..." she whispered as they found it impossible to tear their gazes away from each other. "I'm so sorry, for just waltzing my way back in like this, and telling you all that...I, should have thought...I didn't mean to...You don't have to do anything...I..."

"Alex?"

She took a breath and bit her lip, their eyes still locked on each other. "Yes?"

"Shut yer trap." And then, he kissed her.

_Now we both have separate lives and lovers_

_Insignificantly enough, we both have significant others_

_Only time will tell..._

_Time will turn and tell..._

It was so much more than she had thought it would be, and it was so much less that she thought it would be. More, because it was beyond her wildest dreams, surpassing her highest expectations and made her feel more alive than she had felt in years. But less, because she knew it was wrong. She was married, the ill-fitting ring on her left hand constantly reminded her of that, and he...he had probably found someone else by now too. She couldn't imagine him sitting around for the last four years moping about a relationship that had never even come into existence.

His lips moved gently over hers, the kiss so much tenderer than she had ever dreamed, but still with the same burning, adoring passion she had always imagined, had always longed for. He was almost tentative at first, slowly moving his lips on hers. Not all like the brash Gene Hunt she knew.

For some reason, the gentle, caring way in which he kissed her had more tears brimming in her eyes – tears that she tried to fight back, though the attempt was futile. He held her like she was made of glass, as though she was the most precious, breakable thing in the entire world to him. But, of course, she knew she wasn't, and she never could be either. And that simple fact – that awful piece of knowledge, that she could never be his, it broke her heart.

A searing, mournful pain shot through her chest as in desperation she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. It was like dragging deeply on a cigarette whilst trying desperately to deny that eventually, it had to burn out.

He felt her pull him closer, her hands clutching a little too tightly at the lapels of his jacket as she deepened the kiss, pressing her lips harder against his with a heated fervour he had never experienced before. She tasted sublime; her lips felt so damn _right_ against his, moulding against him as though made to kiss him. She was...perfect, in every single possible way. He knew that; and deep down, he knew that he had always known that.

But she felt _too_ right in his arms, her body melted against his in exactly the right way, her lips moved with his in perfect harmony... She was too perfect. So much more perfect than he could ever deserve, than he could ever hold. And that was enough to make him respond to her insistent kiss – if this was the last taste he could ever have of perfection, he was going to make it something he would always remember. He wanted this to be what he thought of as he lay dying... Not his ex-wife, not his team, not Sam, not even Donna. Alex. It had always been, and always would be, Alex.

Gene's tongue flickered out to brush against her lower lip, causing her to moan softly into his mouth before parting her lips to allow him access, her heart beating against his in perfect rhythm. Her mind felt like it was almost exploding with happiness as their heated breath mingled and tongues danced, sparking heat and fire and an emotion that felt so good she could barely describe it.

But at the same time, the pit of her stomach twisted with something she couldn't deny was the tiniest twinge of guilt. She was a married woman; she had a husband who was away on business...a husband who didn't even know yet that she had taken a job in London again. She shouldn't be kissing another man... But then, Gene Hunt wasn't just 'another man'. He was her Guv, her rock, her constant...the man she had wrongfully turned her back on all those years ago.

He was the only man that knew enough of her to break her heart, and knew enough of her to put it back together again too. She knew she was too late, but at the same time, she knew there was no better time. And in that moment, it was just them alone in the whole wide world – the Guv and his Bolly, together again. Unbreakable.

_We are who we were when_

_Could have been lovers, but at least you're still my day late friend_

_We are who; we are who we were when..._

_Who knew what we know now?_

_Could have been more, but at least you're still my day late friend_

_We are who; we are who we were when_

They pulled apart slowly, lips still brushing intimately together. His hands rested lightly on her waist beneath the blazer, his fingertips caressing abstract patterns through her top as his eyes stayed locked with hers – ice blue drowning in flecked hazel.

"Alex..."

Her name fell from between his lips, still hovering just a few centimetres away from her own, their warm breath mingling in the charged air. The mournful look of regret on his face was enough to cause a single tear to leak once again from the corner of her eye and roll forlornly down her cheek, glistening in the dim light.

Not regret from the kiss, not regret from the warm, very nearly satisfied longing that had always lingered in the pit of his stomach. Regret because their first kiss had come now, whilst both of them were tied to other people, and not four or five years ago when things had been so much simpler.

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't have..." Alex trailed off, her gaze dipping down to look at the floor as her hands slid down from his shoulder over his chest before falling limply to her sides. She had a look of guilt on her face that told him she knew she had no right to touch him, no right to kiss him the way she had.

His silence spurred her on, the psychologist within her knowing that she had to fill it – anything to escape any awkward, hurried exits. She wasn't going to let him slip through her fingers quite so easily a second time. She looked up again and bit down gently on her lower lip, leaving an indent there that Gene longed to smooth away with his tongue. "Everything's different now, isn't it?" she asked softly, subconsciously moving her right hand to play with the ring on her left, the metal there burning her fingertips.

Gene still said nothing, just trailed his eyes slowly over her face, quietly studying her expression as he thought of the right words to say. If he was honest, it didn't really seem like a time for words, or for anything other than actions.

The glorious taste of her still lingered on his tongue, almost taunting him. He wanted her – had wanted her for so long – he could barely believe she was standing there, just inches from him, her lips swollen from their kiss and eyes searching his as though somehow, he might hold all the answers to her unspoken questions. "Depends, Bols," he murmured, one hand surreptitiously sliding its way down to cover her arse. "You 'aven't, yer posh tart."

"Don't," she suddenly said in a voice that almost sounded broken as she hastily let go of her left hand, and the ring she had been fiddling with. "Don't call me a tart."

The realisation of what he had said dawned on Gene as he glanced down again at her left hand; the sight of the thin gold band there burnt itself into his irises. It was such a simple image – innocent, even – but right there and then, Gene could have sworn it was an image he hated more than any other image in the world. Now he had kissed her, held her in his arms, caressed her skin, he couldn't bear to think of anyone else doing the same, and more.

The idea of her stood there at the altar in a white dress, vowing to love and cherish anyone but him was sickening... He met her gaze, their expressions both solemn, both yearning for the other's touch, just one more time. "Sorry, Bols, I didn't mean..." He swallowed, eyes darting to the ring and back up again as he slipped his hand back up to a more respectable position on her waist. "Forgot, married..."

It was then that realisation came crashing down on both of them completely. Because it wasn't just them, alone in the entire world. And it wasn't still 1982; they were no longer 'the Guv and his Bolly'. Because she was married, and he had Donna... Because it was 1986. Because they weren't unbreakable anymore.

_But thoughts they change and times they rearrange_

_I don't know who you are anymore_

_Loves come and go, and this I know_

_I'm not who you recall anymore_

Alex nodded, her eyes filled with regret and sorrow as she looked down at her wedding ring and thought of the man who didn't even know where she was. She knew Gene probably thought her husband was a posh twat – and the thought brought the faintest hint of a smile of her face – but Samuel Woodsen wasn't, not really. He was a good man – a man that cared for her and doted on her and believed in independence. But anyone could have told her that he was no Gene Hunt. And she certainly didn't need anyone to tell her that if she was being honest with herself, he had no space in her heart. Not really, not the way a husband should.

Because the only person her heart belonged to, the only person her heart had ever belonged to, was Gene. Ever since that very first day, when he had grabbed her breast and asked her whether she was going to kiss him or punch him, she had known she was lost. "Have you, you know..." She glanced back up at him again, eyes painfully inquisitive, "Met anybody?"

This time it was Gene's turn to allow the guilt to show on his face as he shuffled his feet and quietly cleared his throat. His hands dropped from her waist so that they were no longer touching, and both of them immediately felt cold. "It's nothing serious," he said, glancing up at her and back down again. "Just..." he shook his head, unable to form the right words to describe exactly what Donna was. For some reason, she didn't seem at all important anymore. "Doesn't really matter, Bols."

"Yes, it does," Alex insisted quietly, her voice almost hurt as she stuck her chin out slightly, expression expectant as she waited for him to speak again. He didn't. A tense silence fell over them, conflicting with the chemistry in the room that buzzed between their bodies, like an electrical charge that no-one could see. She eventually broke the silence as Gene continued to avoid her challenging gaze. "Do you love her?"

The question caused Gene's eyes to snap back to hers, his answer coming with no hesitation. "No." Pausing, he looked at her closely and tilted his head slightly closer to her, their noses very almost touching as he asked, his voice no more than a whisper, "Do you love him?"

Alex let out a slow, staggered sigh, her breath brushing over his lips and making his gaze more intense, determination seeping into his eyes. "I..." she mumbled pathetically, eyes darting downwards and back up to meet his again. "No..."

To her surprise, a smile tugged on the corner of Gene's lips as he leaned closer, hands coming up to rest on her waist again, spreading impossible warmth back through her. The burning temptation and heat between them was even more prominent than before as Alex felt herself melt under his intense gaze, her body moving imperceptibly closer to his. Parting her lips slightly, Alex let out a low involuntary moan as he tugged her closer and whispered seductively in her ear, "Good."

A shiver ran down her spine and before she knew it, his lips were on hers again – this time insistent and demanding, their tongues fighting for dominance as he pushed her back against her own desk, hands roaming her body possessively. She knew it was wrong, and she knew enough of God and the bible to know she was committing a sin, but Alex simply couldn't tear herself away. How could it be a sin, when it felt so right?

His touch made her feel more alive than ever and when he lowered his mouth to her pulse point and sucked there, his tongue flickering out to smooth over the mark he had made, she knew she was completely and utterly lost. Letting her whole body fall back onto the desk, Gene above her, Alex allowed a smile to spread across her face as she gazed up at him, eyes sparkling with excitement and pupils black with lust.

"Are you sure, Bolly?" Gene murmured into her ear as he leant over her, hands toying dangerously with the hem of her top and his fingertips itched to caress the soft skin beneath. Heat emanated from his body down onto hers, spreading fire through her veins and making her feel ridiculously and electrically alive.

"Yes..." It came out as a whimper, her eyes closing in bliss as she reached out clumsily to knock the few tidy piles of paperwork off her desk. "Gene, please..." Her fingers closed desperately around the lapels of his jacket against as she pulled her on top of him and their lips found each other again, passion and desire rising up between them.

Never before had Gene seen her so open, so desperate for anything...He felt his own arousal stir within him, and knew he couldn't deny her this – couldn't deny himself this. She was beautiful, writhing beneath him and begging for him...more perfect than he could ever have, but somehow, she was letting him. So throwing any guilt, or regrets, or doubts away, he slipped his hands beneath her top and kissed her again – savouring the taste of her before he lost complete control of his senses. Because in that moment, despite everything, Gene believed that maybe, just maybe they really were unbreakable after all.

_But I must confess you're so much more than I remember_

_Can't help but entertain these thoughts_

_Thoughts of us together..._

_

* * *

_

_May 13__th__, 1986_

Alex was staring at the phone for two reasons. The first reason was that Gene had said he would call her, and the second was that she had said she would call Samuel. But, she thought with a sigh as she glanced at the clock in her office, it seemed that neither of them were any good at making good on promises. Every time she reached for the phone, the light would glint off of her wedding ring and something would constrict inside her, tightening in her chest until she put the phone back down again. She even got as far as dialling half his number at one point, before she realised her fingers were shaking and she'd probably pressed all the wrong buttons anyway.

Her once neat piles of paperwork were still strewn on the floor from the previous night, and Alex still found herself unable to prevent the memories from rising to the forefront of her mind whenever she got a second of silence. She knew she had never felt that way with any man before, and certainly not with Samuel, but there was still something that made her unable to bring herself to ring him, to talk to him. It wasn't that she didn't want to, and it wasn't particularly because she felt ashamed. What Alex did feel, however, whenever she reached for the phone, was fear. Fear because he would be angry – furious, raging. Fear because he would be hurt, so much more than she ever meant to hurt him. And fear because no matter how right it had felt, and no matter how utterly alive and perfect and loved Gene had made her feel, what they had done was still wrong. It was still a sin in the eyes of God, and, in the eyes of the law too if and when it came to divorce. Which it would, she knew.

Even if Gene changed his mind, even if something happened that meant she could never have what she desperately yearned for, Alex knew she couldn't stay with Samuel. She couldn't ruin his life by remaining his wife when there could be a chance for him to find someone who he truly loved, and loved him in return.

She was a day late, Alex knew. Hell, she was four years late...But she couldn't let herself let go of the idea that maybe, after all this time, she could have the man who forever invaded her dreams and who was perfect for her in every single way.

Gene Hunt was a brute, bullish and arrogant a lot of the time, crude with his language and even misogynistic at times, but he was also remarkable tender when he wanted to be, his intentions were always right, even if what he said wasn't; he was decent, kind, honourable and trustworthy, every value that she had ever looked for in a man. And she loved him for it – for all of it, even the traits that she used to find appalling. Because despite his arrogance and macho pride, Gene Hunt was the man who had full reign of her heart and head. So with that in mind, Alex took a deep breath, steadied her hand, dialled her husband's number, lifted the receiver to her ear and hoped that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't too late.

_We are who we were when_

_Could have been lovers, but at least you're still my day late friend_

_We are who; we are who we were when..._

_Who knew what we know now?_

_Could have been more, but at least you're still my day late friend_

_We are who; we are who we were when_

_My day late friend..._

* * *

_May 13__th__, 1986_

She had reacted in exactly the way he had expected. She had shouted, she had screamed, and she had even thrown things at him at one point. But now, Donna Smith was worn out and had collapsed back against her kitchen table, staring at the man who meant much more to her than she had ever let on. Tears were still damp against her face as she glared at him, her hands gripping the edge of the wooden table as her knuckles burned white.

"I thought you said she had disappeared," she said, voice bitter and angry. "You said she'd pranced her way out of your life for good and you were glad."

Sighing, Gene lifted his gaze to her for the last time and said softly, "I'm sorry." And that was where the limit of his affection and respect for the woman before him stopped; she was one of the few that when wronged by him, he thought worthy of the word 'sorry'. But she wasn't Alex.

"Just get out," Donna spat, her glare moving to the floor as she almost burned a hole through the stone tiles. "Piss off and get back to your posh DI."

Gene sighed again and crossed over quietly to the back door in order to let himself out. Genuine remorse churned in his stomach as he heard her reach for a tissue, but he knew he was doing the right thing. She wasn't Alex, and she never would be. No-one ever would be, and it wasn't fair of him to pretend they could. "You'll get over it, Donna," he said as he placed his hand on the handle. "Yer'll find yerself a good lookin' man with a normal job who loves yer more than anything else in the 'ole world." He opened the door, looking out at the approaching darkness outside. "I'm just not 'im."

_So let me get this straight_

_All these years and you were nowhere to be found_

_And now you want me for your own_

_But you're a day late and my love, she's still renowned_

_

* * *

_

_May 14__th__, 1986_

Yes, Gene Hunt was confused. Completely and utterly confused. But as Alex slipped into his office, a tentative smile on her face, he felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time. And not only that, he felt the courage to say it too.

He looked up at her, catching her gaze as the hint of a smile crept across his face and he held out a tumbler of whisky for her. "Yer late, Bols."

Smiling, Alex moved around to his side of the desk and leant against it, her legs between his as she stared down into the depths of her whisky glass. There was something strangely familiar about the atmosphere in his office, and as Alex absentmindedly traced her fingers over the keyboard of his computer, her smile suddenly grew wider and she looked up at him. "Not too late though, I hope?"

"No," Gene said, reaching up to pull her into his lap by the waist, their foreheads resting together as ice blue collided with flecked hazel again, chemistry buzzing between them once again, years of unspoken words just dancing on their lips, longing to be said. "Yer not too late, Bols," he murmured, tilting his head closer towards her.

Biting down gently on her lip, Alex smiled and pressed her lips to his in a slow kiss, her tongue brushing against his for the briefest moment before she pulled back, feeling more at home in his arms than she had ever felt in a mansion at Kent with a husband that preferred commitment from afar. "I love you," she whispered, closing her eyes as she kissed him again.

Gene looked at her – long lashes against porcelain skin, prefect red lips and the most gorgeous arse he had ever seen. She was perfect and she was, finally, his. He pulled her even closer, his lips brushing her earlobe intimately as his warm breath sent a delighted shiver down her spine. "You too, Bolly. You too."

_We are who we were when_

_Could have been lovers, but at least you're still my day late friend_

_We are who; we are who we were when..._

_Who knew what we know now?_

_Could have been more, but at least you're still my day late friend_

_We are who; we are who we were when_

_My day late friend..._

* * *

_**Hehe, apologies for the length there – I never planned for it to be so long. Please do say if there are parts that you think could do with being cut out! Also, before you go, I have one more big favour to ask of you. :P (I know, demanding, aren't I?) But a friend and I have this newly made Creative Writing blog and we'd love it if you went to check it out! There's already a few writing pieces on there and if you were so amazing as to follow us or comment (anonymous comments are enabled) then there'll definitely be more and we'd be ridiculously grateful! The link is on my profile if you want to take a look! Anyway, I'll shut up now and say thank you very much for reading, and reviews are welcome! :P **_

_**X =D**_


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